Things Come Naturally
by Suki
Summary: When it came down to it, protecting him was not a choice. It came as naturally as breathing air. [5S]
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and all characters therein belong to their respective owner(s)._

* * *

I

She was not happy to be trapped in the desert.

If her partner felt the same, he did not show any sign of it.

Fortunately, she was accustomed to his lack of perspective and general indifference, and set about making repairs as efficiently as possible. The uprising was a brief, though violent one, in a region where problems had surfaced before. They sent one of their best teams in to silence the rebellion. In the years after the war, the Preventers force was a necessity to keeping things steady long enough for the new-born world nation to stand on its own. But recently, some higher-ups had begun to question their means and motives.

"They employ former Gundam pilots. Who can trust the safe-keeping of our tender order to former terrorists?" And with the wise and influential, a lot of lesser people came along in whispered agreement.

But politics was a fickle woman, and if she turned her favor away from those whom she formerly adored, well, one felt simply fortunate that she had not cut his throat.

Things proceeded as usual, and the mission was executed fairly smoothly, until one meccha broke down. It was beyond repair. Reluctantly, they set off with one mobile suit to two pilots, but when this one showed signs of weakening, Sally stopped them and refused to go any further.

They had enough water to last them through a week and were still within walking distance of the nearest town, though they had no means by which to communicate with the outside world. It was better now than later, and Sally wasn't taking any chances. She was too level-headed for that.

First things first. Beneath the shade of the mobile suit, she stretched out a large white sheet over the steaming sand, and laid out her tools. Then she went to work removing the afflicted parts, separating them carefully and inspecting the damage.

She turned a hot, irregular shaped object, ignoring her blackening hands.

"The oil joints must have received some critical damage from the close-range missiles." She placed the object down and tugged her sleeves. "This is going to take some doing," she admitted.

Her partner, leaning beneath the shade of his meccha a short distance from her, looked cross. "How much doing?"

Sally sighed. "About a week's worth."

He prodded her with slanted eyes. "I still say we make for the nearest modernized city. If we keep good time, we'll be there in a day and a half."

She straightened, trying to support her point with good posture. "And I say it's too much of a gamble." When he started to sigh in exasperation, she got up, "I'm your senior officer, Wufei. A risk to both our lives is simply unacceptable."

"And meanwhile we're stranded in the middle of nowhere, is what you're saying."

Sally shook her head. "It can't be helped."

Wufei dropped his arms and pushed off the machine. He grasped for a foothold and started climbing.

"Where are you going?" she asked, startled.

"To find the blueprints," he curtly replied.

* * *

She wrestled futilely for a whole day and on into the next. About noon, when the sun beamed vengefully onto her neck and back, she slumped into the shade and lay down, rubbing her eyes mercilessly.

She sat up then and blinked. Where had that man got to?

When he had first come to her, he was no more than a child, arrogant and desperate all at the same time. She recognized his need to make things right and respected it. She often felt the same impulses herself, though hers were balanced with a sensibleness that was beyond Wufei's comprehension. He was drastic and passionate. She was careful and clever. It annoyed him terribly, it was clear to her, that she was a stone idol of the perfect man. What she tried to get him to see was that he didn't need to be perfect. He only needed to be himself and learn how to channel it.

He hadn't changed much in the five years they'd been partners. Even his physical composition remained relatively unaltered. His sleek black hair met in a tiny coy at the base of his neck, and his quick, narrow eyes gave him the constant appearance of agitated alertness. He was not so large in frame, though he was strong in his slenderness. He appreciated upside down smiles as frowns and made use of them.

"Wufei?" she called, her voice a little thin.

She waited for his response, but when it failed to come, she called a gain, tensely, "Wufei?"

Still no answer.

She scrambled up, scattering a little sand onto her sheet in her haste, and turned round the large machine.

She found a trampling of muddled footprints all round, but one fresh set seemed to lead away from the machine. Sally swallowed her panic down bitterly. She followed the trail.

It was difficult, walking in sand, even with shoes on, and she found she was continually fighting against her own sinking feet. She kicked at the dust in frustration. All around her the sand spread out in orange smugness at its own egocentricity. The dunes were stagnant waves in the dry sea of a million years. She felt almost seasick, following the undulation of the sand-hills, until she mounted the crest of one and met an anomaly. Disturbing the endless repetition of orange and sterile blue, she saw Wufei standing, his back to her, facing the endless expanse.

He was distracted.

She slid down the dune, skidding up brownish clouds as she went, but didn't say anything. She approached carefully, unwilling to startle him.

He was looking at something on the ground, with an intensity that made her nervous. He must have sensed her by now but made no acknowledgement of her presence.

At his feet a black smudge fingered in the sand, approaching steadily.

A sixth sense took over. All thought ceased. She screamed, "Look out!" drawing her shotgun and blasting the thing a mere yard from her partner's feet.

His eyes widened significantly, and he turned his head too look at her, rather pale.

"What – what were you doing?" she half-yelled.

He looked at her steadily, eyes still dilated in a way that startled her beyond herself.

She leapt toward him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him gently. "Wufei, what is _wrong_ with you?" she cried, and though she felt badly for yelling, her fear removed all power of her control.

It was at her touch that he came back to himself. He tossed her off as easily as though she were a breeze. "Nothing," he said, furrowing his brows in deliberate irritation. "What in the hell's gotten into you, woman?"

She stared at him incredulously. "That thing could have killed you," she declared, and when his look did not evaporate, she persisted, "A scorpion – scorpions are deadly!"

He scowled, rising his voice to match hers. "I know! I'm not a fool!"

She leaned away from him, mouth slack. Her breath escaped in little puffs, her adrenaline receding. She shook her head.

Whisking away is difficult in feet upon feet of sand, but she managed it gracefully enough, and retraced her steps slowly up the sand-hill. She was burning. She did not have to turn to know that he continued to scowl into her trembling back.

* * *

Without moisture to dilute them, the stars unveiled themselves one by one in royal diadems.

Sally sat cross-legged on the ground, fiddling with a piece of yarn. Wufei, who had returned earlier without a word, dragged a can of oil over the sand and began making preparations for a fire.

"Hey," he said, disturbing the weaving of her thoughts.

She looked up.

"Will you toss me your lighter?"

She put her fingers into one of her jacket pockets and tossed him the desired object. She resumed entertaining herself with her string. She hand not gotten much work done, and was nursing her sour mood with a game from her girlhood. She tied the string into a circle, entwining her fingers in alternating patters and threaded the thing together to create elaborate webs resembling objects.

A fire rose up hesitantly, and Wufei fed it splinters from an emergency starter log. He lifted a burlap bag and clanged around inside, lifting a brass cooking pot. This was self-heating, so he would not actually set it on the fire. The latter was really for warmth more than food.

The slender man ripped open a package of compressed Raman and dropped it into the pot.

"How much do you want?" he asked roughly.

"I'm not hungry," she replied shortly.

He glared at her briefly before taking a large canteen and emptying a quarter of it into the brass pot. He ignited the little flame beneath it and stirred it with a tin-handled spoon.

He looked at her again. "What are you _doing_?" he said, his annoyance rising the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

"Nothing," she retorted. "Playing a game."

He made a face. "Well, I hope you're more motivated tomorrow morning. We couldn't get to civilization even if we wanted to, now that you've mutilated the insides of our machine."

She pressed her hands into her lap indignantly. "Excuse me?" They eyed each other challengingly. "It certainly wouldn't hurt to have you help a little more!"

He let out a breath that sounded like a sniff. "I _could_ if you weren't hovering over your precious parts day and night. I can't get near them without you badgering me."

"Is it my fault that you start snapping things before you're sure if they're necessary?"

"If you weren't so stiff and by-the-book, maybe we could have improvised and be much farther than we are now."

"Improvising may cost us our lives!" she cried.

"It was the only thing that kept me alive during the wars. If a Gundam pilot worried about keeping to the rules, he would be dead within his first mission."

"Well, this isn't war any more," Sally persisted. "The sooner you get that into your head the better!"

"Oh? And do you think _this_ is peace? Is this, this – strained tension, this fragile web flanked by uneasiness – is this your precious peace?"

"You know," she spat bitterly, "You're right."

He narrowed cool eyes at her.

"This isn't peace, is it? We've been playing the politicians long enough, you and me. When we get out of here," here she paused, and lowered her voice, "if we get out of here – I'll be sure to turn in my partner resignation first thing."

She tossed her yarn onto the sand and clambered up the side of the mobile suit. She nearly fell into the close cockpit, closing the entrance behind her, and curled up in the pilot seat, feeling oddly mournful.

Outside, slightly muffled, she heard Wufei let out a frustrated cry.


	2. Chapter 2

II

* * *

She didn't remember falling asleep, but slants of morning light accosted her and she blinked awake. She heard the drilling of nearby tools beneath her.

She slid off the seat and opened the hatch, peering down to see what her ex-partner was up to. He tossed a stray part idly in hand, giving it a good look over, then re-sounded the electric screwdriver and continued his work.

From the looks of him, he'd been up all night.

Sally, poised on the door, arms folded, felt calm. The heat of the day had hardly begun to climax, and she let the remnants of sleep leave her slowly. She was a bit embarrassed, then, when Wu Fei, proclaimed, without looking up at her, "I think I'm getting somewhere. Come down and have a look."

She tensed, eyebrows rising involuntarily. How did he - ? But how stupid of her. Of course he'd known she was there. Sheepishly, she slid down from the cockpit and padded over the sand to peer over his shoulder.

He gave her the aforementioned part and she glanced it over quickly. "It's good," she said quietly, handing it back to him. He squatted down and smoothed her white sheet, fingers sliding over the tools.

She sat down heavily, watching his progress. Though early, it was still warm, and the young man had removed his uniform jacket and untucked his white undershirt, revealing, softly undulating muscles beneath olive skin. He was intent, and she felt safe watching him, knowing that his mind was elsewhere.

She ran her fingers through her waving hair, but it was no use. The honey locks bounced back up on her, forming large spirals hugging her neck. She relented and separated it into two pigtails, then stretched out to lend him a hand.

During the morning, they worked in relative silence. Around noon, Sally stood, wiping her pants, and declared that she was going to make them something to eat. She usually hated relenting to be the cook, because Wu Fei seemed to think it was a suitable task for a woman. But this day, she had a small but persistent message from her body that she needed to get some food in it.

She leaned over their well-used cooking pot, fingering a bag of dry rice. The sun stared weightily at her with its one huge eye, and she breathed heavily. There was lead in her limbs. She put a hand to her base of her neck and shoulder and moved her head around a bit.

Wu Fei saw the gesture and said, flatly, "What's the matter?"

"My neck feels funny," she admitted.

After they had eaten a little, Sally rubbed her arms nervously. It was too hot out for her to have a chill, but she had eaten well and had not improved.

"I think I'm getting a cold," she said quietly. She swallowed and checked for signs of soreness.

He picked at the grains of rice at the bottom of his bowl, but said nothing.

"Hey, I think I'm going to find my way back to that village. Maybe they have something I can take. Last thing we need is two sick pilots."

Wu Fei's neck straightened, alert. "Why do you have to go into town? Don't we have a first aid kit?"

"Yes, but it contains bandages and sterilized butterfly stitches, not cold syrup," she said.

He was paying attention, for once. "How can you be sure that the village will have any medication? They're in the middle of nowhere, just like us."

She was a bit unnerved with his orneriness. Just why was he being so difficult? "They always keep emergency medication," she parried. "And even so, they must have some natural herbs or cures. It won't take so long." When he looked cross, she asked, "What, are you mad that I won't be helping? It's not a vacation, I assure you."

He frowned. "Don't be stupid, woman."

She considered retorting but decided against it, as her head felt a little light. She sensed an oncoming headache.

Wu Fei held his bowl upside down and tapped the last crumbs from it. "I think you should stay here."

Sally stood abruptly, despite the objection of her muscles. "No, Wu Fei, that's ridiculous. I'll back before you know it. You stay here and work on the suit."

He eyed her warily. "It's about a half a day's journey on foot. You'd have to stay the night. It's no good for a woman to be alone in this part of the world."

"What do you mean, I can – "

But his speech grazed right over hers, continuing, "And there are sure to be straggling rebels or family members who recognize you. It's a bad idea."

She put her hands on her hips. "Fine," she said shortly. "I'll stay here and _die_." She said the last word exaggeratedly, but it surprisingly did its work.

Wu Fei was silent for along time, eyes flickering at her. "No," he said finally. "I'll go. You stay."

She _was_ the sensible one, after all, and he the stubborn. She let him go, if it pleased him, and lay across the white sheet, fiddling with her wrench. She could think clearly enough, but as the day wore on, her body begged for rest.

She staggered into the mobile suit and sunk into the pilot's seat. But she found this immensely uncomfortable, and so pushed herself up, and went to the storage compartment to find some extra blankets.

The ugly, shaggy military blankets came out easily, but they caught ahold of Wu Fei's bag, spilling its contents into the small metal cockpit. With an objective sigh, she scraped the items together, ready to stuff them back in roughly. He fingers crumpled over papers and cold objects. She tossed a Swiss army knife in. There was a water bottle and his Preventer's badge. She stacked some crumpled sheets, making sure the corners lined up neatly. He was such a mess! As she held these facing her, she recognized the one on top. It was a Preventer's release form. She brought it close to her face. The paper was wrinkled, but she was able to make it out perfectly well. It was an official partner change request form.

He had beaten her to it.

She held the paper up, for a long time, not moving. Then, carefully, she placed the stack into his bag and tucked it away.

In what must have been mid-night, she awoke abruptly, opened the door to the cockpit, leaned out, and retched. She tottered back, a bit shaken, and sunk into her chair. This was no cold.

She had nightmares.

She dreamt she was back in the schoolyard, with her fourth-grade friends. The trees were green and plush, spreading themselves to a mild blue sky. They were playing string-games, making intricate patters out of a single yarn tied together.

"This one's a bird," her playmate giggled. "And this one's the Eiffel Tower!"

A boy in their class, big-boned for his age, came over and yanked the yarn from her friend's hands. "That's stupid," he told her, and the little girl started crying.

"Stop!" Sally yelled, trying to grab the string back. "We were just playing. We didn't do anything to you! Why do you hate us?"

But the boy was bigger and stronger than she, and his arm came down upon her like a mallet, flinging her away. She fell back onto the pavement, winded.

The children yelled, though Sally couldn't move, and she saw the shadows of classmates and teachers come over her, severing her from the sky. She saw shapes, farther off in the darkening atmosphere, darting back and forth, and a screeching, hollow sound rose, first low, then high, drawing ever nearer. Machines of war, mobile suits and military planes, rushed by overhead, their sound burrowing into her skull and shoving out all else.

The grains of dark behind her eyes sifted out. She was being tugged to her feet and shouted at, though it took a few seconds for her hearing to return. She looked up and cried, startled.

Wu Fei was speaking to her. "Get up!" he said. "Don't be weak, woman! What stupidity is this now?" He yanked the string away.

"Give it back," Sally yelled, "it makes me happy!"

"Happiness is a weakness."

"I was just living," she cried, tears stinging. "I didn't do anything to you! Why do you hate me?"

He pinched her arm, and she cried out.

"Be still," he said sternly, voice low.

"Stop it! I didn't do anything to you!"

"Sally! Be still!" he said, now a bit louder.

She struggled but had the sensation of being pinned down.

He wasn't looking at her anymore. She followed his line of vision and saw that he pressed a needle into her arm. Directly below, a thick band squeezed her skin. A labeled bottle of clear liquid nearby trembled with every twitch she made.

"Be still," he repeated.

She felt the liquid enter her vein and the needle slide out.

He placed a plastic cap carefully over the used needle. She watched him quietly, her head reeling.

When he finished screwing the lid on the bottle, he leaned back over to take a survey of her. She was sprawling on the floor of the cockpit, in the very dark, early morning, but she was confused, and didn't know this. He reached out and placed a cool hand to her burning brow.

Sally sunk darkly into a murky, dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

III

She was dreaming again.

In her vision, she rode out on a white steed, decked in silver armor, and accosted a giant scorpion. Each time she tried to skewer it with her sword, it lashed its tail at her and pierced her side. Eventually, she fell from her horse, defeated and poisoned.

She lay on the ground, in a very real pain, when she saw a man dressed in white approach her from far away. When he drew nearer, she recognized him as Wu Fei. He held a small container of clear liquid, and this grew in size until it became a crystal phial. When he poured it on her, it revived her.

"Do you see what trying to save me does?" he asked, irked.

"But you can't save yourself," she explained, patiently.

"That's because I'm too busy keeping up with you, woman."

But she only smiled sweetly. "Only by forcing you to think of me will you ever save yourself."

When she left the dream the words exchanged between them faded into mist, but the reminder of the container of serum stayed with her. She rose groggily in the dark, finding a blanket across her lap. She wrapped this around her and looked about. Beneath, the sounds of Wu Fei working rang steadily. She tiptoed to the hatch and opened it. It was a clear, cold night.

He heard her and turned around, only briefly, then continued what he was doing. She stepped down carefully, landing in the sand with a soft thud. She came over to him and held out her hand to offer him another blanket.

"It's cold out."

He took it without speaking.

She sat down next to him, burrowing a little into the sand.

"Feeling better?" he asked, without taking his eyes off his work.

"Mm. How long did I sleep?"

"Five or six hours."

For a while, there nothing but the steady clang of Wu Fei's hammer.

Sally shivered a little and adjusted her blanket. She wanted to say something, but nothing seemed suitable.

"I guess I owe you," she said quietly.

"What do you mean?" He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and picked at a wayward screw.

"I would be seriously ill if you hadn't brought the serum back."

For a while, he was silent. Then, he settled and looked at her. "Why would that make you owe me?"

She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Why was he so difficult? "Because," she said slowly, as if speaking to a small child, "I might have died."

He shrugged. "You might have died lots of times. That's never indebted you to me before."

Perhaps it was her weakened state or the cold night air, but Sally just didn't have the patience for his indifference. She felt the prick of tears behind her eyes. She sighed deeply, trying to smooth her trembling voice. "I'm just trying to thank you," she said, rather hopelessly. She got up then, preparing to hide herself on the other side of the machine, so she could cry in peace.

But she'd hardly moved before a sharp tug on her blanket brought down hard. He looked her over hard, disapproval sharpening his features.

She let him peer, trying to be brave.

"What's the matter with you?" he said, almost casually, as though this was the most normal of conversations. "Why did you shoot that scorpion, when you saw it coming near me in the sand?"

She pressed her eyebrows together in confusion. "Well, I – I just did. I thought it would hurt you."

He looked at her thoughtfully.

She threw out her hands in dismay. "God, Wu Fei, do I need a reason to protect you?"

But he reached out and grasped either hand and lowered hear arms as he spoke. She couldn't understand. He said it almost humorously. "No. And I don't suppose you'd take it well if I said I _owe_ you, either?"

She was amazed. The more she thought about it, the better she saw his point. When it came to the very bottom of it, protecting him was not a choice – she did not weigh the consequences of her actions, nor make a mental list of pros and cons. It was not even a decision. It was –

"As natural as breathing air."

She lost a heartbeat.

She guessed he hadn't realized he'd read her mind right then because he dusted off his tools, and wrapped up the parts in the white sheet, so to keep them clean, as if nothing in the world had happened.


End file.
